I do not own Harry Potter.

This is rated Mature for a reason as it deals with adult themes and blatant innuendo. If you are younger than the age of 18, or do not have your parent's or guardian's permission do not read this. It is not appropriate for small children, pre-teens, young teenagers, or any teenagers in general.

Love is the Answer

Voldemort was having an average day, a little of this, a little of that. He just recently went out on a raid with his death eaters, not to cause chaos and mayhem, though it did occur, but to sneak away on some business.

That business being to attend a small pub that had folksy music singers playing. Not much could make Voldemort happy, but folk music had its perks.

Voldie hummed a little tune, something about a french kiss capturing a English boy., when the idea suddenly occurred to him.

If he could capture Harry Potter, he could defeat him by using Harry's weapon against Harry. That being love.

Or lust....

one could never really tell past the first date.

But Voldemort had it in his head. He was going to make Harry Potter the most sought after boy in England. Voldie could just imagine it. The streets would rampage with people calling Harry's name, and Harry would be forced into hiding. It would be glorious because once Harry was too busy worrying about his own safety he would be unable to do something for the safety of the world, or England. Voldemort just wanted to rule over something, the world was a nice idea but unrealistic. Voldie would have to make due with England, besides, to most close-minded British wizards the world was literally England, why just the other day Lucius Malfoy told the most charming tale of his family's voyage from the edge of the world, a.k.a France, to England. All the death eater's stood most enraptured by the tale, except for Voldie and Severus, the only two in the entire organization that actually went to muggle school and learned something from it, besides the rampaging hatred.

Back to the story, Voldemort leaned in his chair, his long leg crossed over the other. The question of how to get the main ingredient bothered him. Most, if not all love potions, required a small portion of the one to whom the infatuation is placed on. Not a problem if you were brewing it to make someone fall in love with you, but poses a little bit more difficulty with someone else as the focus. Hmm... Voldemort stood and pulled out a potions text from a bookcase. The recipe was simple, it was meant to warm up unwilling brides and ensured that it created an almost unbridled lust. Voldemort smiled when he realized what he could use to aim the focus.

In the graveyard it was Harry's blood that brought Voldie back to life, in essence, Voldemort simply housed his soul in a malformed Potter clone. Voldemort carried the book to the potions lab set up in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

Some basic multiplication tables and Voldemort had created a general guideline of what was needed to drug the entirety of England. All he had to do was let out a pint of blood, Harry Potter's blood, and everything would basically be in business.

Severus was summoned and instructed to start brewing while Voldemort researched a spell he knew existed that would contaminate all the drinkable water supplies, saving one for himself, with the love drug potion.

Severus wiped the sweat off his brow. The dungeons have become hot with the boiling of thirty of the largest size of cauldrons available. His long hair dripped with sweat and not even the leather strip he used to tie it back would work as it kept sliding off.

He had no clue what Voldemort wanted of him. It was an old, archaic potion that went out of style a dozen centuries ago, around the time Hogwarts was founded and joined the wizarding world together, when wizard chieftains still existed and would steal brides. At best it ensured a very happy marriage for the man, at worst... well... it was one of the only potions that ensured the person who took it never stopped getting the proverbial hard-on for the focused person. It was after Hogwarts was founded that people started getting 'refined' and it just didn't seem appropriate for the sexually repressed wizards.

But Severus continued to brew the potion, because his master required it of him, and because the pride he had in his own skill would allow him to do no less. It was a simple potion to brew, but made more difficult because one ingredient had become more rare. Of course, Voldemort had all of the ingredients one could ever hope for. The final ingredient Severus held with almost reverence. It was the last of it, almost entirely, save for perhaps a few potions suppliers who held onto it more out of collectors value than the need or use for it. 30 wings of the Bramble fairy glistened and tinkled as it moved in the jar. 30 cauldrons, just one wing each. It was the only ingredient that did not need to be divided or multiplied for larger or stronger doses, it simply was. Fairy magic, true fairy magic, there was no reason or explanation for it, other than they once existed openly and are either dead or hiding.

The last of the Bramble fairy wings. It was almost enough to make Severus feel an emotion besides the apathy and anger that ruled most of this life. Almost, for as the first wing hit the first cauldron it stopped boiling and turned from a dark purple to a delightful shade of pink, the color of a young girl's lips after her first kiss, the gloss from the wing leeching into the potion making iridescent swirls throughout. And that process continued twenty-nine more times. Severus identified the emotion it made him feel.

It was pleasure, of a job well done. If only he could ignore the worry that came from being unable to contact the headmaster and alert him to what Voldemort's current plans could entail.

Voldemort applied the runes to the circle. It was an old Hebrew spell for revenge, one that used on the Ancient Egyptians. There was some additional changes, the region's own language had to be included in the spell and so Voldemort used Gaelic and Welsh and the traditional languages of the native people who inhabited the UK to label the regions to be effected.

It also meant that Voldemort had to assert his influence somewhere, with a clean water supply and bury stones spelled in parseltongue to guard a water well, down as deep as Voldemort could push the stones into the earth.

Voldemort had his servants carry the thirty cauldrons into the ballroom of Malfoy Manor. The rich wood floor was buried under the chalk drawing of the map of UK and the cauldrons were placed on regions. The Thames River alone had four cauldrons at different intervals assuring that the potion did effect everywhere.

Voldemort started his chanting and the map underneath him glowed and grew lifting up and carrying the potion out of the cauldrons until a fine mist hung about in the air and with a whoosh it shot out of the room through every exit and into the atmosphere creating heavy storm clouds that poured down strongly for seven days across the whole of the UK.

During those seven days Voldemort stayed indoors, near his water well, and drank warm cuppas with chocolate biscuits and bid his time until it was safe to go outside.

Harry was having relatively good week beside the sense of dread he felt whenever it was pointed out that Snape never came back to school after the first day of absence. The different staff took turns overlooking his different classes, but the ones that knew of his spying worried about what that might mean for everyone. Dumbledore wasn't smiling nearly half as much by the third day of Snape absence, and perhaps not every Hogwarts' student knew or cared, but the ones that did were growing more and more anxious.

Finally a full week and three days later Snape returned looking no less for wear. His black robes fluttered as we strode swiftly towards the Headmaster's office.

Harry, Hermione and Ron stood up, wanting to follow until Minerva held them back, classes were going to start soon.

Harry was listless in Transfiguration, he and Ron were passing Harry's notebook back and forth on the table they shared posing ideas and questions about what Snape could have been doing, but more importantly what it might mean for Harry.

They never saw it coming.

It was dinnertime and everyone was at the Great Hall eating. Harry was itching to go talk to Professor Dumbledore and find out what was happening, but he had promised Hermione to wait until after dinner. As it was, the students in the wizarding school were rather spoiled. A majority drank water only on occasion, as a last resort, after the sweet drinks had finished on the dinning tables. Hermione, being muggle-born and the daughter of two dentists drank water, preferably, over anything else, save for the occasional butterbeer. It was midway through the meal when Hermione suddenly had a moment of clarity.

Hermione was across the table from Harry and Ron, or rather she sat across from Ron so she had the option of kicking him underneath the table when he was about to do or say something stupid. But it also allowed her to talk to Harry face-to-face. Suddenly she realized what very pretty green eyes Harry had. Well... always had, and Hermione always knew they were very pretty but suddenly she wondered if it was possible for their children to have those green eyes.

How improper! Hermione blushed as Harry looked at her curiously because she was so blatantly staring at him. Her throat felt dry and itchy, so she poured another glass of water and chugged it down. Now Hermione felt warm, and tingly. Hermione's face flushed as she took off her outer robe to sit down in her white dress oxford and gray pleated skirt. She daringly undid the first two buttons of her blouse and allowed a little collarbone to show. She smiled at Harry.

Ron was the first to notice surprisingly, or not, depending on who you would have asked. But Ron had been noticing Hermione's appearance for a while, or rather after accidentally splashing her white blouse with water when he stood up too quickly in Grimmauld Place. Of course it was summer, and she was wearing a simple white babydoll tee, but all Ron could remember was the shape of her petite breasts through the wet fabric and how the cold water made her nipples pop out.

Ron, becoming more and more admiring of the figure Hermione showed only every so often noticed when she took off her robes and he could see her slim waist at the top of her pleated skirt, that he prayed would accidentally lift up in a gust of wind sometimes.

He had more and more daring dreams of Hermione, biting her neck, making her moan and gasp as he kissed her and ran his hands all over her body....

Ron blushed red and ran from the Great Hall, yelling out to Harry that he had to go take care of some business. Harry shrugged, not really understanding why Ron ran off like that and, to be honest, not really caring. He figured it was his private right to wank off whenever he felt the urge to... Harry shuddered and turned to Hermione after watching Ron's retreating form for a while.

Harry noticed her buttons but dismissed it, it was a muggy day after all the rain and the bright end of summer sun made everything steamy.

"So Hermione, are you finished with the pitcher?"

"Oh, I'm not finished, not yet at least." Hermione batted her eyes at Harry while smiling and biting her lower lip.

"Ermm... Ok, I'll just ask someone down the table to pass another one my way."

Seamus passed the water pitcher to Harry who took drink but then spit it out into the goblet. "Ugh. Something's off with the water."

Hermione flushed a little more and started rolling her skirt up at the waist, and unbuttoned another button revealing a little peek of cleavage. Neville noticed, raised an eyebrow and asked Harry to pass the pitcher. Neville, being the mature boy he was figured it was not any of his business when flat-chested Hermione went into heat, not when he had a lovely Susan Bones sitting across the hallway from him. Neville smiled at the thought of Susan and his hands accidentally brushing in Herbology the other day when he took his first sip of water. "I'm not sure what you're talking about Harry, the water tastes fine to me." Suddenly Neville shifted where his eyes were looking to take in the slim, yet muscular, form of the boy next to him.

"So Harry, met anyone interesting yet?"

"Ugh, no why? What about Neville?"

"Nothing Harry, I just suddenly realized that you're my roommate, and I never really paid you enough attention."

"Erm... ok... do you know what though? I think I need to go help Ron with... umm... finding his mittens, yeah, his mittens. You know Ron, always losing things. Bye!"

Harry pushed the wandering hand Neville placed on Harry's thigh and took off to the common room. He found Ron sitting staring at the chess board he owned, playing against himself whenever he was bored.

Harry collapsed onto a couch. "Ok, this is going to sound super weird, but Neville was really getting into Susan Bones right? I mean, they had the one date in Hogsmeade..."

"Yeah, what of it?"

"Yeah, well... this is so weird, like maybe I'm making more of it than I should but he placed his hand on my leg."

"That doesn't seem like something Nev--"

"Harrryy~!" Hermione came through the portrait hole looking a bit more flushed and rumpled than either Ron or Harry have seen her as, ever. "Harry, you took off from dinner so quickly and I got scared so I came to see if you were alright."

"Erm, yeah I'm fine Hermione. But are you alright? You look a bit... winded."

"I'm absolutely fine, but, Harry I have to tell you something... in private."

A quick spell later and Hermione froze Ron, throwing a blanket over his frozen form to hide his eyes that moved back and forth in confusion. Harry pulled his own wand out and went on the defensive, watching Hermione for what she might try to do next. Harry considered that Hermione was under the Imperious curse when she lunged and tackled Harry to the floor.

Harry rolled with her weight on top of him when he tried to push her off and get away, his wand was just a tad bit further than his longest fingers could reach. The only solace he had was that Hermione had let her wand roll further than his had. Harry tried talking to Hermione. "Hermione, I don't know what happened, but you can't hurt us. You can fight it Hermione, you don't have to do whatever they're making you do."

Hermione laughed and unbuttoned another one, the middle of her bra peeking out. "Harry, Harry, Harry, I'm not going to hurt you. I would never dream of doing something like THAT to you, but I do have something else in mind." Hermione smiled at him and ground her hips against his in a very suggestive movement.

Harry gasped, "Hermione!" and despite the rambled thoughts telling him that Hermione was like a sister and that she would end up Ron's girl and make lots of ginger babies Harry's body betrayed him.

"Ooh, that's what I'm talking about now Harry." Hermione slid a slightly cold hand into the waistband of Harry's pants and into the crotch of his boxers. Harry gasped and hissed through clenched teeth. It seemed like his will would collapse when the portrait door opened again and a flushed Neville ran in.

"Get off of him you hussy!" Neville used a spell to knock Hermione off of Harry's waist and grabbed the green-eyed boy pulling him into their dormitory room. Neville showed a suddenly impressive knowledge of locking charms and non-entry wards before turning around and pushing Harry onto his bed. Neville, the silent but somehow obviously kinky type, cast a spell to tie down Harry to the bed posts.

Harry strained and tried to move away when Neville undid his shirt and revealed a body that was a little pudgy, but definitely becoming the body of a man. He had defined pectoral muscles and strong, bulging arm muscles that the robes of his uniform did not do justice for. His pants slid low down his hips revealing his hipbones and a little treasure trail leading from around his bellybutton to the lands beneath his shorts.

"Umm... Neville... I... umm.... HELLPP!!! Someone! ANYONE!!! HELP MEE!!!"

Harry started screaming when Neville climbed onto the bed in his boxers, his arousal evident through the tented fabric. Harry strained and tried thrashing about in his bindings as Neville undid the buttons of his shirt and slid a rough hand over the smooth chest of one, virgin, Harry Potter. Neville tweaked Harry's left nipple making Harry gasp for a moment in between his screaming. Harry wasn't expecting that, but then he proceeded to scream louder and thrash harder.

Finally after Neville had somehow ripped the shirt off of Harry's lanky body and was working on ripping the belt loose the door bust open by an enraged Hermione Granger who, after some fancy spell work pushed Neville into the hallway, hogtied in his boxers, and repaired the door placing even more charms over everything, including the windows.

"Oh Harry, I'm so glad I saved you from that horrible man. Can you ever forgive me?"

Harry, was suddenly very doubtful about that as Hermione ripped her shirt and skirt off standing only in her knickers. She sashayed towards him, still tied to Neville's bed, and undid the clasp on her bra, letting it slide down her arms onto the floor. Harry's arousal stood at full attention. Harry really didn't think of Hermione that way, but seeing as it was the first pair of naked breasts he ever saw it really went out of his control. Harry stopped yelling for help and gulped as Hermione slid her knickers down revealing a triangular patch of hair. Harry nearly stopped breathing when Hermione kneeled on the bed and slid her leg over him, when the door popped open again, but this time an enraged group of Lavender, Padma and Paravati hogtied Hermione and pushed her underneath Neville's bed before untying Harry and carrying him, literally carrying him, to the seventh year girls room.

All the while this happened Ron was fighting the petrificus cure Hermione placed on him, it was strong, but he heard enough going on that he managed to slowly start moving again as the time passed long enough for it to get weaker.

Ron just managed to remove the blanket covering his face to see Harry with a dumbfounded look on his face being carried away by Padma, Paravati and Lavender. Ron tried to follow but tripped the alarm on the stairs and following was pointless as the three girls already sequestered themselves in their room.

Ron untied Neville who ran, still in his boxers, to the base of the girls stairwell and yelled up at them to leave Harry alone. Ron then went into his room to find Hermione, assuming the other two didn't throw her out the window. Ron scratched his head when he found her undergarments, but not the girl, and pocketing her underwear called out for her. A muffled yell led him to look under Neville's bed, and to pass out with a smile on his face. Hermione frowned and began to shuffle closer to Ron, hopefully his wand was in an easy to reach spot so she could untie herself and go after the slags that stole her man.

Meanwhile across the grounds of Hogwarts some of the students were walking about, yelling, begging, pleading for Harry to appear, to come out, for their sweet stud muffin with those avada kadavra green eyes to come out and kill them dead with his sexiness. Of course, there were a few Gryffindors looking about too, but trust a Ravenclaw to watch her parents casting the fidelius charm on their house and then apply it to the entire hallway where the Fat Lady's portrait was located. So gryffindor students that had been effected with the love potion contaminate water were wandering around, calling out for their hero-prince to come out.

Even a few professors were already under the effects. Flitwick had dashed off to Hogsmeade to buy Honeyduke's entire stock of their finest chocolate. Vector was fanning herself as she complained to the Headmaster that Harry Potter not being in her class was a travesty and to catch him up to all he had missed she needed a week alone with him, somewhere nice like Wizarding Aspen, to tutor him. McGonagall stalked the Hogwarts halls looking for the entrance to the common room, she even occasionally switched into her animagus form to sniff the air, hoping to catch a whiff of her young, soon-to-be beau.

Meanwhile, Voldemort was having a bit of his own crisis. Throughout the brilliant planning, it did not occur to him that while he did essentially use Potter's essence, that his body was composed of Potter's essence, and that the people under the influence would not be able to tell the two apart in desire, aside from name. Voldemort already had to kick a half-naked, deranged, Bellatrix from him and lock himself in his bedroom. Of course, Voldie already had a suspicion that Bella always desired him that way, it was the force of her amour that frightened him. He wiped his face off with a towel and some water from a non-infected supply and shuddered. Bella had run her hand between her legs as an example of how ready she was for him, if the wetness glossed on her inner thighs weren't enough evidence. She then proceeded to grab his face in an attempt to lock tongues. Voldemort fought back, for a second forgetting he was a wizard and instead took off, various servants calling out for him and taking chase as well.

Voldemort sat on the edge of his bed and pondered how he was going to get himself out of this new, tricky situation.

Alas, I hope this plot bunny runs with me for a while longer. Also, the song referenced to is "Take you Home" by Frank Turner, go check him out. He's awesome.

Please review, or favorite or whatever. Just let me know you read. :D